Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Identity
by Shamekeeper12
Summary: The dungeons are spreading, and no one knows why. An exploration team is sent to find answers; but on the very cusp of breakthrough, they disappear. One morning, an apprehensive buizel is thrust into an adventure he never wanted. At his side, a "friend" he doesn't know. Somehow, he must make it out alive in a world with no savior—and no identity. A PMD tale.


The morning it all began, began unlike any other morning.

He was no stranger to the rain. But he was stranger to the hour.

He was anxious. He walked quickly.

It was 5 am.

He stopped to rest. Catch the breath.

He ran a paw over his head, feeling the bald spot where his right ear should've been. Shifting his blue cap to cover it—as he always did—he reassured himself:

 _This is some elaborate hoax_ , he thought. _She's a Union spy!_ _Officer Magnezone will want to hear about this._

Starting on down the path, he came upon the nearby crossroads. To the left, the road that led to the market. To the right, the one to Swanna's Guild, and the police station. For a time, the buizel wondered…

Not too long ago, the mystery dungeons began to spread. First in the frontiers of the north, then in its farmlands and roads. Reports came from across the continent. New perils. Lost pokemon. Bandits. Even famine. It was some _thing_ that no one could explain. Notice boards were always filled. Rescue teams disbanded, or went rogue. Rivalries within the Exploration Team Federation grew more sour…

Then there was the disaster at Shiver Village.

The end was nigh, said the murmurs and the rumors and the prophets. Which town would be next to fall? Some thought there ought to be a united front. One organized to bring about peace, in their time. The Union was born.

Cast off the chains, said its leader. Cast off the Exploration Team Federation. And the people cheered, for their leader was a human from another world.

One day, five pokemon visited Rainy Town, and appeared before Guildmaster Swanna. Gray bands about their arms, and gray scarves about their necks. Surrender, they said. We are the Union.

Nuts, the Guildmaster replied. And the townsfolk were ever fearful.

… You see, his name is Tom, and Tom is townsfolk. So when the crossroads asked him, the market or the guild? To the left way or the right? He went right—and hoped he was right.

* * *

If he had stayed there a little while, and not have gone on, he would've seen another pass by. A stranger. A servine. She hadn't spent an hour here, and already, people were looking at her funny. Maybe that's why Tom told her to stay in the first place.

Maybe it was because she was a Grass type in a town where the rain never stops, and everyone's a Water type. Maybe it was because it's 5 am, or maybe it was because she had stolen a small feast from a local berry farm, and was now unceremoniously chewing _all_ of it with her mouth open as she lumbered down the middle of this muddy street.

Gross.

Maybe it was a combination of all these things. But truly, it was just the scarf she wore.

Yes, these people look on—with fearing eyes. They see the storm gray, and know just what it means:

"Union soldier," said the murmurs and the whispers and the early-morning risers. They stare from the side—

ears deaf to the pitter and the patter of the rain.

Now this is a problem for the servine, because she has no idea what the color means. She only found that scarf the night before. And for better or worse, she doesn't care about that right now.

Right now, she wants to see what Tom is up to.

She soon happened on the same crossroads. And as it had done for Tom, it offered her two choices. A sign pointed the way for each. The left road labelled "TO MARKET" and the other "TO SWANNA'S GUILD".

She huffed. "Can't travel both and be one traveler," she muttered, feeling some comfort from how familiar the phrase was.

She went right—and knew she was right.

* * *

Tom had a special talent. He could tell the time by how wet his fur was. It was drenched, so it must have been early morning. It was an instinct that comes with standing in the rain every waking hour, handing out the latest news—never good news. The hat they gave him hid his defect well, and he never left house without it.

His only wish was that it could also make him invisible.

"Tom, my little reject!"

He flinched as the dewott smacked the back of his head, stealing away his hat with it. A new sensation formed as the rain caught his bald spot—a sensation he never liked.

He sucked in a breath of self-control. Ears deaf to the pitter and the patter of the rain. "What was that for?"

The dewott threw out his arms in mock misunderstanding. "What?" he sneered. "Can't say hello? What are you doing out so early?"

"I have business that isn't yours."

"That's some dodgy business you're in, Buizel."

"My name is Tom."

The dewott made a show of delicately placing the hat on his head. "What are you these days? I hear you got a new job. What's it...newsboy?"

"Why do you ask, Oliver?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that…" he tossed the hat into the mud, making sure Tom saw. "... I thought you wanted to be something else. I think it was...an explorer?"

No reply.

He flinched again as Oliver laughed suddenly. "An explorer, that's right! What a joke!"

His laugh rang revoltingly in Tom's one ear. His paws balled into fists.

"An explorer… how can you do that with only one ear?"

"I can't hear you," he replied.

Oliver chuckled, amused by his witticism. "Tom, you don't understand. You're defective. You're weak. And the day you register with the Exploration Team Federation is the day I resign from Swanna's Guild!"

"The ETF has nothing to do with my ear."

"You're still weak."

"I can fight."

"Show me."

"I'm busy."

Oliver drove his foot down onto Tom's hat, quashing it into the mud. Not a second later, the blade of a Razor Shell sat threateningly under his chin.

"I'd like to have my daily training, Tom. Show me."

He breathed, pushing it away, calm as he could. "I'm busy," he said, and walked away.

The dewott scoffed. "Just like your father, Tom. Always busy."

He stopped.

Oliver smirked, knowing he had crossed the line.

Tom gulped, but he couldn't swallow his pride. The police station, just a little ways further, blurred away in blind rage. "Twenty paces?"

"The traditional twenty paces. No items. No help."

"Who moves first?"

"Whoever's quicker. Shall we begin?"

… "Let's"

Twenty paces.

Assume a battle stance.

A small crowd starts to gather. "It's a fight," said the rumors and the ruffians and the passersby. A dozen, maybe. Even guild members showed up. All likes gather, like those eager to watch the hanging, to watch the show.

Oliver and Tom exchange glares, sparks of hatred arcing between their eyes. Tom moves first.

He plants his feet, Water Gun shooting out. Oliver replies with a Water Gun of his own. The two attacks meet as the mighty clash of two rivers. The mud deepens in the splatter.

Tom flinched first, ducking down as Oliver's Water Gun prevailed—sailing overhead.

A breath of courage, and the buizel takes his turn. Leaping forth, he engulfs himself in churning water, and surges forward like a guided missile.

Oliver grins, knowing just the counter. Sidestepping at the last moment, the dewott's arm glows white. He strikes down hard on Tom's back. The Brick Break shatters his charge.

The buizel cries out, tumbling as the Aqua Jet's momentum carries him through the waterlogged mud.

For a moment, he struggled to stand, feet slipping in the mud. The next, he smirked. Inspiration.

He forgets standing up, glancing over his shoulder. Oliver draws a single scalchop. A bright blue aura grows out of it, hardening into the distinct blade of a Razor Shell. The dewott approaches. _Closer, closer_ …

He seized his chance.

Bringing his split tail round, he swung at Oliver's ankles. The Aqua Tail swiftly sweeps him off his feet, the mud sliding underneath them like an oil slick.

The dewott yelps, falling to the quagmire, sending mud to the wind. Tom winces, his back still reeling, but he didn't have time to rest.

Oliver growls. Lifting his face out of the mud with one arm, he swings the Razor Shell with the other, slashing at his feet, kicking up more mud.

Tom scurries back, struggling to avoid the attacks. The traction-less slop now working against him. Through sheer fright, he managed to struggle away.

For a moment, they were separated. For a brief time, they stood opposite one another, catching their breath, wiping their face, regaining their footing.

Mud-drenched monuments to their own pride. The filthy earth sliding down their arms and backs as the ever-present rain drowned out all the other faces, and voices, and commotion. The crowd had grown—a dozen now, or so.

"Tell me Tom!" Oliver called. "How can you be a good explorer with only one ear?"

"I can't hear you!"

With a growl, he drew his second Razor Shell. "Don't worry. I'll show you!"

Tom only blinked, and Oliver had closed the distance. His momentum was unstoppable. Backstep after backstep was forced on Tom as blade after blade of sliced at him. Not a blow landed, but his courage was cut to pieces.

He yelped, his back finally driven into a wall. His heart sunk, a Razor Shell thrust forth like a rapier. He ducked to the left, in time to have it land just left of his cheek, shaving off a whisker.

He was relentless, bringing the second blade to bear. Tom struggled to keep his footing as he rolled across the wall. Mortar flies as the second strike lands, Tom barely escaping by the skin of his Swift Swim ability.

But the move had made him dangerously off-balance. There was no dodging the next one.

Oliver seized his chance. He swung right with the back of his fists, bringing across a devastating Brick Break.

His face took the whole of the blow. His neck swung, his feet launched off the ground. For a moment he was weightless in the air. Suddenly the world was suspended. Just as suddenly, it was dropped.

Darkness.

When Tom managed to wrestle back his consciousness, the dewott was standing over him, anger beaming from his eyes. He had retrieved his scalchops, and two Razor Shells were hanging over his head. Tom's vision was still spinning, but he managed to muster a few words, arm raised in protection.

"I forfeit…you win!"

"You don't deserve—!"

Suddenly, a fierce gale, and a torrent of small leaves—glowing with aura energy—rushed through, shattering any drops of rain that dared to fall in its path. Oliver never finished, as if he had disappeared. Tom ducked his head under his arms, eyes squeezed shut as the storm whirled above. The wind. The flurry. The noise. Already dazed, he couldn't help but think he was losing his mind. Had the forest itself joined the battle?

But the storm passed, and the wind died away. The noise quieted, and the rain fell again at his face. Tom found the courage to open an eye, then the other. He looked around wearily. Oliver lay knocked out, upside down against the wall. He glanced the other way to see the servine a few yards off, standing triumphantly.

"LEAF STORM FOR DAYS!"

Thoroughly shaken, Tom sat himself up, the servine helping him to his feet. The crowd murmurs frightfully.

"Okay there?" she asked. "Come on, let's getcha home."

He reluctantly followed, but not before snatching his hat out the mud. He gritted his teeth nervously, feeling the weight of a hundred eyes upon them as they hurried away. Disappear down the street, the rain their cloak.

* * *

 _Later that day..._

Only the rain spoke. Tom could tell the time by how wet his fur was. It was drenched. Mid-afternoon.

They had arrived in silence—each waiting for the other to speak. Tom had no chairs. They sat on the floor, on opposite walls. Like two chess players seeking out the checkmate. But neither wanted to win. They wanted answers.

The buizel himself was especially confused. The servine's gray scarf… She had to be a Union soldier, and yet, she had literally deus-ex-machina'd his tail. Of all the burrows and huts on this street, she had chosen his to knock on. For what? What could she possibly want from him?

So he asked. "What do you want from me?"

"So it speaks. After all," she said; and he heard her strange voice once more. A northern accent.

"What do you want from me?"

"I already told ya. I need help."

"You wash up on a beach without your memory, somehow having survived? You expect me to believe that?"

She shrugged with her arms. "You'd believe anything if it's consistent with your world view."

He leaned forward, angrier. "I'm not here to discuss philosophy. I told you to wait!"

She growled. "You told me you were going to get food! I can read the signs, bub. You were going to arrest me." Her snake eyes narrowed. "To be honest, buizel, I don't trust you either."

He huffed sharply. "Listen. If you want help, it's not my place, nor my business. Now we're going to be arrested anyway. You can get your help from the police."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, arrested?"

"Well, you're wearing Union colors. You attacked a guild apprentice two blocks from the police station—that makes you a criminal, and a fugitive. Then, you proceed to whisk me away—that makes me a fugitive by association."

She nodded slowly.

"As we speak, miss, Oliver is probably telling Officer Magnezone everything he wants to hear. By next morning, we will both be arrested. Then, you can explain your case, get help, and we'll have nothing to do with each other after that. Until then, we wait. Because running makes us guilty, and I don't want to walk back to the station again."

"And… what about you? After they take us, I mean."

He scoffed. "Who would care? I certainly don't."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Whoa, this thing is finally starting to come together!

For those who don't know, this is a rewrite of an old work. This one's actually gonna be a completely different story altogether, so I apologize if you were hoping to see a polished version of the old one. But! I can say that this venture will be a lot better than the last, however far I may get, and I hope you'll stick around for the ride. ^^

In this chapter, we meet Tom the Buizel and Servine. We also learn of the Union. Where could this possibly be going?

Until next time, happy reading! ( ^ ^)

Update (September 11, 2016)  
This chapter has been reworked. Hopefully it'll be a more enjoying read for you newcomers. Hope to see you again when chapter 2 rolls around in a few months!


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